Psychological denial of our creed.

My story begins with love. It gets complicated with love springing up into different meanings, conjuring its different dimensions. I was sure it to be eternal, but the fluidity of love knows no such bounds and cannot be constraint by any threshold of a bank. A flood of gushing water that erases everything which comes its way is not merciful nor can it be known for remaining constant with ebbing flow. It follows its own course, sometimes it is subtle, other times it is forceful. I can smell it, touch it, and feel it. Even though it is not claiming me as an adherent, but I start worshiping it because of its fierceness. There is something more divine about fear and beauty ensuing it. I was, and still am, mesmerized by its magnanimity which is beyond my comprehension. Another side of me I cannot relate to. Schizophrenia? Nay, simple polemics of irrationality that we acknowledge. Irrationality cannot be a mental sickness, but not being able to recognize oppression and tyranny is. I only became an apostate when I realized the stronger emotion of hate that came as a controlling factor of my life more than my love. My story is no different than anybody's. We have serious introspects, often times deviant attitudes to define what we know and want to express with simplicity, but are conditioned helplessly to behave against our creed; to deny our convictions; to remain schizophrenic; to lie.